


Under Attack

by SongPainter (OliverFans)



Series: Twenty One Pilots - Songs Painted With Words [7]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: I only used 'mature' because of the F word., I was lonely when I wrote this, Inspired by Music, Meta Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 16:57:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8217947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OliverFans/pseuds/SongPainter
Summary: This is my metapoetry inspired by the Twenty One Pilots song Car Radio (Regional At Best version).





	

A fly buzzes, its tone; irritating.  
Daylight fills this room, its radiance; offensive.  
As he shifts, a shirt strokes his back, its fingernails scratching.

Muscles drag, they stand there, judging.  
Thoughts hang, waiting for their turn, impatiently.  
Staring.

_Stop._

Socks rub like sandpaper,  
Their previous softness a distant memory.  
Underwear grips,  
Hellbent on elasticated torture.

Stripped,  
He seeks sanctuary under water.  
But shower droplets laugh a hideous laugh,  
And fragrant bubbles turn his stomach,  
Hands grip into themselves.

_Enough._

Clothing dragged on,  
Each movement; a screaming snagging.  
His head pulses,  
Sinking,  
Screaming,  
Silently.

_I can't take it._

His body; a trap,  
His world; an offense,  
Every sense; on fire,  
Every input; an attack.

 

He screams.  
Out loud now.

~

And he screams some more.

~

His own fire burning up and out, coursing through his body and over his every road, highway, and alley.  
His own fire filling the spaces where silence hung like an insult and a silent critique on his existence.  
His own fire ripping up the question marks, the painful pauses, and grabbing the reins of full stops.  
His own fire morphing into a dragon at his whim, toppling enemies and winning victories along with him.  
His own fire staked into the ground, leaving his mark on life.

_I am here._

_I am fucking HERE._

His own fire; warming him and surrounding him, its perimeter a protection.

~

There in the daylit room, he dances,  
With downy socks joining in,  
Shirt cheering on,  
Damp hair kissing his forehead,  
And thumping floorboards smiling up at him.


End file.
